


Spirit Wolf

by cowgirl65



Series: Be A Man [29]
Category: The Big Valley
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirl65/pseuds/cowgirl65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jarrod and Dave encounter the supernatural after a disastrous event in another town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The Big Valley and make no money from this.
> 
> The prompts for this story were - kiss, moon, ghost, wolf, fangs, collar, riding crop, nipples and night. It contains bits and pieces of numerous different stories and myths; all have been altered for the purpose of this story.

The moon was full, so by unspoken agreement the two men pushed on to a well-used camping spot that they knew of by a small spring only an hour’s ride away. A lonely howl sounded off in the distance and Dave involuntarily shivered. He thought of his grandmother and blamed her for the unsettled feeling he always had at the sound of a lone wolf.

“Something wrong, Dave?”

Jarrod must have noticed his disquiet and Dave grimaced. It was just an old story and he really didn’t want to admit how it made him feel, even to Jarrod. But maybe if he got it out, he’d see it for the childish superstition it really was. “You’ll laugh,” he warned.

“Never.”

Dave glanced over. Jarrod was watching the trail carefully, not looking at him at all. “Well, maybe you should, it’s kind of silly.”

This time Jarrod did look at him. “I’ll only laugh if you do,” he promised, blue eyes twinkling.

Dave took a deep breath. When had he ever balked at telling his lover anything? “It’s my granny’s fault,” he began. “Don’t get me wrong, she was a great old gal, but superstitious as the day is long. Lucky horseshoe nails, leaving milk out for the wee folk, collecting four leaf clovers, that sort of thing.” Jarrod chuckled and Dave shot him a mock-glare. “I hope that was for Granny, not me.”

“Absolutely,” Jarrod said in a completely serious tone. “Go on.”

The wolf howled again and Dave shuddered. “She had a story from the Chippewa Indians up in New England where she grew up. There were these creatures called witchy wolves. According to Granny, they’re spirit animals, half dog and half wolf, who protect the souls and graves of the warriors and attack anyone who disturbs their final resting place. Whenever we’d hear a wolf howl, Granny said another grave was being disturbed. Now every time I hear a wolf, I get chills up my spine. And after what happened back in Madera…” 

Dave trailed off, thinking about the events that had prompted this trip. A man, an Indian that Dave had arrested for an altercation in the saloon, turned out to be a suspected rustler down in Madera. After talking to him, Dave hadn’t been convinced and neither had Jarrod after Dave asked him to consider defending the unfortunate man. So the two of them set out with the bounty hunter who was bringing John Littletree in for trial. Jarrod managed to find him an alibi, but the judge and jury were possessed of highly prejudiced minds. They found him guilty in spite of all evidence to the contrary and Littletree found himself swinging from a tree wearing a rope collar the very next day. Dave knew it bothered Jarrod as much or more than it did him; he’d been uncharacteristically quiet until now.

“The Chippewa are thousands of miles away,” Jarrod pointed out, “and we made sure John’s people were able to give him a proper burial. It’s unlikely that wolf is after us, if it’s after anyone.”

Dave gave him a rueful grin. “Thanks,” he said, grateful for Jarrod’s understanding. He spotted the distinctive dead tree and rock formation at the same time as Jarrod and they made for the campsite. 

It didn’t take long for them to make their horses comfortable. Jarrod took the coffeepot out of his saddlebag and started for the spring, but Dave grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Where are you going, lover?” he breathed in Jarrod’s ear. They both needed to forget about the senseless death of a good man and Dave knew just the way to do that.

A shiver went up Jarrod’s spine, but it wasn’t from the howl of a wolf. It was from the hot breath that tickled his ear and the hardness of Dave’s arousal against his hip as his lover pulled him close. They both needed an affirmation of life after the events of the past couple days and Jarrod couldn’t think of a better way to lift their spirits than with a session of passionate lovemaking. “I was going to make coffee, but if you can think of a better way to keep warm…” He was cut off when Dave turned him around and kissed him hungrily. Jarrod parted his lips to let Dave’s questing tongue inside and the kiss grew more heated as they stripped off each other’s clothes, lips never parting except for when they had to bend down to remove their boots. Soon Jarrod found himself naked and pushed back against a fallen tree. Dave grabbed his leg and pulled it up and around him, his other hand digging into Jarrod’s side and Jarrod had to brace himself so Dave didn’t push him completely backwards. Their hard cocks pressed against each other and Dave leaned over to suck on Jarrod’s exposed nipple. 

“I’ve got a riding crop in my saddlebag,” Dave murmured, biting the taut nub. “Want me to go get it?” 

Jarrod shivered as he imagined the feel of the smooth leather gliding up his thigh, of the exquisite pain that would come from Dave sharply smacking his ass, his back and possibly even his balls and cock, and his arousal grew. He was just about to say yes, to beg if that was what Dave asked him to do, when an unearthly growl sounded from just behind them.

They broke apart. There, behind the log, was a giant wolf with its lips turned back in a vicious snarl. But it wasn’t an ordinary wolf. A macabre glow surrounded its huge frame and its fangs glistened under the light of the full moon. A numbing fear came over Jarrod as the wolf slowly advanced, growling and snapping. It wasn’t after him, though; it stalked towards Dave, who reached for a gun that wasn’t there. The story of the witchy wolves came back to him as he tried to move, but it was as if his muscles were frozen. Jarrod could only watch helplessly in fear for his lover. He saw the muscles in the wolf’s haunches tense in preparation to spring and tried to call out, tried to rush over and knock Dave out of the beast’s path, but he remained immobile. Please, he prayed silently to any being who might be listening, please let me help him.

The air shimmered between Dave and the wolf as if in answer to his call. Jarrod watched as it coalesced into a figure and as that figure grew in solidity, it became familiar.

John Littletree held up his hand. The wolf crouched down and its growl turned into a whine. No sound emanated from the shadowy form, but Jarrod could still hear his words.

 _Peace, my friend._ He turned towards Dave. _This one did me no harm._

The wolf creature let out a small growl.

 _What he imprisoned me for I was responsible for. He and his soulmate…_ The ghost, for Jarrod knew that was what it was, gestured towards him. _They did what they could for me. They are honourable men; they could be of the tribe._

The wolf stretched out its legs, laid its muzzle between them as if in a bow and slowly faded away.

John’s ghost turned towards them. _He is my guardian,_ he explained, _until I go to the Great Spirit when they perform the rites over my grave. Somehow, he knew you were responsible for my first arrest and took to mean you were responsible for my death._

He looked from one man to the other. _It is very unusual for a spirit such as I to communicate with one not a shaman._ Then he cocked his head as if listening to something or someone. _It may be that it is because you are both two-spirit, men who prefer other men, even though you are both warriors as well._

His form started to waver. _I am finally released,_ he said with an expression of relief. John’s spirit inclined his head to Dave and then Jarrod. _The debt I owe you for your help has been honoured. Live well._

The ghostly form shimmered for a moment and then was gone. Jarrod could finally move and went to Dave. “You okay?” He could feel Dave’s muscles tremble under his hands. Pulling Dave with him, he sat back on the fallen log and held him tightly until the trembling subsided.

Dave gave an almost hysterical laugh. “I can only imagine the look on Granny’s face if she knew she was right.”

Jarrod cupped Dave’s cheek in his hand, turned his head and kissed him gently. “Well, they say that God favours the righteous. I’m just glad that John’s guardian believed him when he said we fell into that category.” 

Dave nodded and slowly relaxed into Jarrod’s embrace. They stayed that that for a few moments until Jarrod started to shiver in the chill night air. 

“Sorry, Jarrod,” Dave apologized, “didn’t mean to keep you out here while it’s getting colder.”

Jarrod chuckled and kissed him again. “Why don’t we spread out the bedrolls and you can warm me back up?”

Dave caught the gleam in Jarrod’s eyes and felt a thrill when Jarrod nibbled on his lip. The terror of the night’s events became less real and more like a dream in the face of the very real passion they shared. What happened with the spirit wolf and John Littletree’s ghost could be scrutinized in the light of day but right now he just wanted to lose himself in wild abandon with his lover.

“You unroll the blankets,” he suggested with a wicked gleam in his own eyes, “I’ll get the riding crop.” The way Jarrod’s breath caught in anticipation kindled a burning desire in Dave’s belly. _Live well_ had been the last thing the ghost had said to them and Dave fully intended to honour that wish.


End file.
